


Impactive Acquisitions

by GoodbyeBlues



Series: Investigative Journalism [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bucky is basically Mother Theresa, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Medicated Steve, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sassy Bucky Barnes, Steve gets injured, Very Difficult Steve, non-graphic car accident, t for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 05:15:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10802496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodbyeBlues/pseuds/GoodbyeBlues
Summary: Steve gets slightly injured in a car accident, causing Bucky to worry, cry, and force-feed soup like it's going out of style.





	Impactive Acquisitions

**Author's Note:**

> Props to Buffy (BuffyScribbles) for the idea of adding some 'drama'. I really, really tried, but can't write anything too serious it seems, so sorry this veers from emotional into humour so abruptly (I'm not entirely happy about how quickly the tone changes but I couldn't think of a good transition scene!) I do hope you enjoy it though! <3

 

 

He scrambled down the hallway and almost plowed into a nurse.

 

“Sorry, sorry!” The apology was rushed and frantic, Bucky not even stopping to ensure it was heard. 

 

He darted to the information desk and tried to calm his breathing, tried to control the shake in his voice with only mildly successful results. 

 

“Steve Rogers, please, I got a call that Steve Rogers was in an accident, I need to see him.” Bucky ran a hand thoughtlessly though his haphazard hair, moving the errant strands out of his line of vision. He didn’t give a shit what he looked like right now,  _ he needed to see Steve.  _

 

The receptionist regarded him with professionally cool eyes. “Name and relationship?”

 

“James Barnes, boyfriend, I’m his boyfriend, we live together.”

 

A small nod of the head. “One moment.” 

 

A keyboard clacked and a mouse clicked. Fifteen seconds passed with no information forthcoming. Bucky wanted to scream. 

 

“Mr. Rogers is on the third floor. Room 342.”

 

Bucky was already halfway to the elevator. 

 

* * *

 

Steve Rogers was pissed. 

 

He was also pretty high on painkillers, but he would never admit to it. 

 

He was pissed because he had been trying to have a nice lunch with his brother today, but everything had gone to shit. 

 

He was pissed, because he couldn’t really understand why the public still took such an interest in him. Things had calmed down significantly over the past year, and this usually wasn’t such a problem. For some reason, today had been an exception. 

 

He and Tony had been together, and it had been a good press opportunity, apparently, this chance sighting of New York’s favourite millionaire brothers, brothers who remained out of the public eye more often than not these days, and more paparazzi than usual had flocked to their location, making it difficult for Steve and Tony to get out of the restaurant cleanly. 

 

He was pissed, because he had been sitting in his SUV in the middle of the street, waiting for the swarm of photographers to get out of the fucking road in front of him so he could actually move his car from it’s standstill, when a car had come slamming into the side of his vehicle, a nice T-bone to go with his lobster salad at lunch. A little surf n’ turf on a Wednesday afternoon. Hah. 

 

He was on painkillers because the car had hit the driver’s side door, breaking his left arm, cracking a few ribs, and giving him what the doctors were calling,  _ a rather serious concussion.  _

 

Steve wasn’t a doctor, but he was pretty sure he was fine. He felt like clouds now. 

 

Steve had been told that Tony had immediately hopped out of his own sports car (he had been stuck in the ocean of people behind Steve and hadn’t been hit) and called an ambulance, forcing the crowds back with a glare so threatening the surrounding reporters had already begun calling their lawyers. 

 

Tony had also called Bucky. 

 

Steve had had his phone earlier, and had been using it to communicate very well, thank you, but Tony had taken it away for some reason. But it was ok, because Bucky was gonna be here soon. 

 

Steve fucking loved Bucky. Like, so much. 

 

Bucky had these fine lines around his eyes that crinkled up when he laughed, irises flashing with mirth and spirit when Steve would get away with a terrible joke. He had a wide smile and sweeping hands, hands that could touch and hold and tempt so easily, that could ignite a conversation with a well placed gesture. Bucky had strong arms and good shoulders, and dark hair meant for needful tugs and gentle pets.

 

Bucky also had a pair of Keds with little panda bears printed on them. Steve really liked those shoes. He had seen them kicked by the door this morning on his way out and they were floating around in his head merrily at the moment.

 

So, to sum up, Steve was pissed, and maybe a little high, and also so, so tired, but really, Steve was fine _ ,  _ stop asking Steve, nurse. Because Steve was _ fiiiiiiine _ . Because Bucky was coming. 

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky saw Tony sitting in a chair in the hallway, a pretty redhead beside him, when the elevator doors finally,  _ finally _ , dinged open. He let out a whooshing breath. 

 

“Tony, how is he?” Tony popped up and they exchanged a firm handshake and a slap on the back (Bucky had been observing Steve’s bro-hugs and was getting better at these greetings) before Bucky turned a polite but slightly impatient smile on the woman. She smiled back reassuringly, unoffended by his lack of greeting. 

 

“He’s been better. His left arm was broken, and he cracked two ribs on that side, so a little banged and bruised to say the least. The hit to the head was the more concerning thing, so they’re going to keep him overnight, maybe more depending on how he improves. He has a pretty decent concussion and lost a bit of time for a few minutes there. He doesn’t remember getting pulled out of the car, or the ride to the hospital.”

 

“Can we see him?” Bucky was trying to keep his legs from jiggling in place but they didn’t want to listen for some reason. 

 

“The doctor’s just in with him now, running a few more tests. It shouldn’t be long.”

 

Bucky nodded. He didn’t really trust his voice anymore. 

 

“He asked for you, you know. Like twenty seven times, I think. Actually, I know. Because I was there. I wasn’t counting, but it was around twenty seven. His own brother, right there at his side, offering support and love, and all he can talk about is his perfect boyfriend. Also your shoes. What have you done to him Barnes? The guy is totally gone on you.”

 

Bucky’s laugh was a little wet, his eyes registering a bit of a sting as he met Tony’s. “He’s a fucking sap, but I’m pretty sure he was that way long before I got to him.”

 

Tony nodded solemnly, but the edges of his mouth were playful. He was trying to make Bucky feel better. “I agree. This is all Sarah’s fault.”

 

Bucky did laugh then, and finally pulled himself together enough to offer a hand to the quietly smiling redhead. “Bucky Barnes. Steve’s boyfriend.”

 

She smiled fully then and extended her own hand. “Pepper Potts, Tony’s assistant. It’s a pleasure.”

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky was wearing his panda shoes when he walked in, which was just so fucking awesome. 

 

“Bucky! You came! I love you! I love them!” 

 

Bucky’s face was wet, but it wasn’t raining outside. Steve knew because there was a sunbeam touching his leg on the bed. Huh. Bucky was smiling now though, so that was good news. He had such a great smile. 

 

Bucky moved closer and took Steve’s right hand in his own before leaning in and planting a tender kiss on Steve’s lips, and sweet Taco Tuesday, that was nice. Bucky was just so good, everywhere. Bucky pulled back finally, his eyes bright and leaky. 

 

“I love you too Steve. Who is them?”

 

“What?”

 

“You said ‘I love them.’ Who is ‘them?’” Bucky’s lips were twitching up now, like he was trying not to laugh, even with the dampness on his face. 

 

“The pandas.” Obviously. 

 

Bucky’s smile was so bright and beautiful, Steve was so lucky to have it so close. 

 

“Ah, yes. Of course.”

 

“Buck, I was so mad. Someone hit my car when I was inside it! They weren’t obeying the traffic lights. And I was in the intersection. Because of cameras.” Steve was articulating the information he had been given by Tony earlier very well. He clenched his hands and ow, ok, the left one hurt, but the right one was squeezed back by Bucky, so everything was alright. 

 

“I know Stevie. The driver, the paparazzi, are all fucking idiots, but Tony and Pepper are going to look after those parts. Your part is to focus on getting better.”

 

Steve’s eyelids weighed ten thousand pounds suddenly. “I can do that. Can I sleep too?” 

 

Soft fingers carded through his hair, and Bucky’s voice sounded sad and wet when he confirmed that yes, the doctor said sleep was ok, but he also sounded relieved and warm and Steve really needed to open his eyes and tell him it was ok but he couldn’t, but Bucky said it was ok to sleep so he was just gonna do that for a minute…

 

* * *

 

Steve woke up, and everything hurt. 

 

His eyelids were heavy but he pushed them open, the low lighting in the room making him blink and squint for a moment. He turned his head, (his neck was so stiff, holy fuck) and saw Bucky sitting, no, sleeping, in an uncomfortable looking chair beside the bed, head lolled onto his shoulder, one hand still reached out and holding Steve’s hand. 

 

Steve just kind of wiggled his toes under the bedding for a moment, trying to get his bearings, get his feet under him, metaphorically at least. 

 

He was in the hospital. He got hit. Right. 

 

There was a cup of water with a straw sticking out of it on the bedside table, and it was calling Steve’s name, but it may as well have been on fucking Mount Everest for how he felt right now. 

 

It hurt to breathe. 

 

He wiggled his currently held fingers and Bucky’s head snapped up, a slight grimace of his own (neck pain was a common problem today, it seemed) taking over his face before it changed into a sweet but troubled smile. 

 

“Hey, you’re awake.” Bucky’s eyes were filling up as he spoke softly, relief and stress and overwhelming love having been felt in excess today. 

 

Steve smiled back and opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue felt dry and heavy. He looked up, a little helplessly, he knew, and Bucky got the hint, grabbing the water and placing the straw between Steve’s lips.

 

Steve gulped like a man just returning from a year in the desert. 

 

Even drinking was exhausting. 

 

He leaned back against his pillows and closed his eyes for a moment, collecting himself. “Are you ok?” He opened his eyes to look at Bucky again. Tears were spilling over now. 

 

“Am I ok? Fuck Steve, are you ok? You could have died today!” Bucky looked like he wanted to hit something but didn’t have a target, his chest rising rapidly and hands tightening in on themselves. 

 

“C’mere.” Steve nodded down to the empty section of bed (thank god they had positioned him slightly to one side, moving his whole body was a little too much to think about right now) and Bucky hesitated slightly before carefully climbing in beside him, positioning himself to lay down against Steve, arms tightening around his uninjured side.

 

Steve scooched his head forward just a touch and rested their foreheads together. 

 

“I love you. I’m alive. And I’m right here.” He ended the statement with a kiss on the nose, every other precious part of Bucky’s face being a little bit too far away. 

 

“I love you too.” Bucky came forward and kissed him tenderly, breath fluttering against Steve’s lips, his eyelashes, his jaw, as Bucky peppered his face with gentle kisses. 

 

It felt so good on his face, and Bucky felt so warm against him. If Steve closed his eyes and let the ache of his body slip away, he could pretend they were at home in their bedroom on a lazy Sunday, no obligations, no worries, just sunshine and soft blankets and quiet contentment. Steve did close his eyes then, just for a minute. Just a minute and then he would open them again, and kiss Bucky and…

 

* * *

 

“Bucky, I’m fine.”

 

“Steve, you’re not.”

 

“Except that I am. Also chicken noodle soup is for the flu I think, not broken bones.”

 

“Steve, eat the soup. Soup heals all.” Bucky was currently trying to jam a half-filled spoon of broth into Steve’s objecting mouth, and it was not going well at all. Mostly because Steve kept flapping his gums about the supposed lack of healing properties of a classic CNS (Bucky was great at acronyms) and not actually shutting up and chowing down like a good patient should. An injured Steve was a Very Difficult Steve, it turned out. A VDS, if you will. 

 

They had been home for less than a day now, and Bucky had constructed a healing nest of sorts in the living room, currently being occupied by Very Difficult Steve. So far, Very Difficult Steve didn’t need any help putting his shirt on. Very Difficult Steve thought the wheelchair ride out of the hospital was “thoughtful, but unnecessary” and that the pillow nest in the living room was “adorable, but overkill.” Bucky didn’t give two shits about what Very Difficult Steve wanted anymore, because Oprah, or maybe his Mom one time, had said soup was good for you, so Very Difficult Steve was gonna eat this goddamn chicken noodle soup, whether Bucky had to mother-bird vomit it down his throat or not. 

 

This. Was. Happening. 

 

“Steve, eat this fucking soup, or I swear to god-”

 

A buzz from the apartment’s intercom interrupted what was going to be a very kick-ass threat. (That Bucky had yet to think of.) 

 

Steve definitely had a  _ Saved by the Bell  _ look on his face, so much so that Bucky expected Zack Morris to pop out with a giant phone and freeze time any second. 

 

Thankfully, that didn’t happen, so Bucky pointed an intimidating spoon towards Steve, before mouthing  _ this isn’t over  _ and walking towards the front entrance _.  _ Combined with a menacing glare, it was very effective. Steve didn’t reply, just raised an eyebrow. The flappy-gums were silenced, at least momentarily. Small blessings. 

 

Bucky stepped over to the intercom and pushed the ‘talk’ button. “Yes?”

 

“Mr. Barnes, there’s a delivery for yourself in the lobby. Shall I send it up?”

 

Bucky glanced back at Steve but was met with a one-armed shrug, genuine confusion on his face. 

 

“Yes, you may, thank you.” Bucky was the intercom king, that ‘may’ was extremely adult. Also, surprise presents! Probably for Steve, seeing as he was injured, but Bucky was willing to bet he could talk Steve into at least sharing half, if not 60%, of an edible arrangement or two, should it come to that. The fruit would go bad in like, a day, if not. It was really the only logical choice. 

 

Before edible arrangements though, was dinner. Because Bucky was a top-notch responsible adult/nurse/boyfriend. 

 

“Steve, eat this goddamn soup right now or you’re not allowed to eat the chocolate covered bananas currently making their way up the elevator.” Steve really liked the bananas. Bucky really liked that Steve really liked the bananas. It was ...exciting to watch. (Bananas were the most phallic fruit after all. Also, they were good for you! A double whammy of greatness!)

 

Steve groaned like a five year old and threw his good arm over his eyes, tipping his head back on the couch. 

 

“Nooooo, Bucky, please. Don’t take the bananas!”

 

Bucky was steel incarnate. He looked pointedly at the soup bowl and then back to Steve, maintaining eye contact for probably longer than necessary. 

 

Steve caved in after a minute (hah, victory!) and lifted the spoon to his lips, finally consuming the soup with a grumpy expression on his face. Oprah and/or Bucky’s mom would be so proud right now. Not to exaggerate, but Bucky was practically his generation’s version of Mother Theresa. He was pretty sure this just proved it. 

 

Visions of more humanity-saving soup-giving efforts were cut short however, when a knock sounded at the door. 

 

The edible arrangement was here!

 

“I’ll get it, I’ll get it, I’ll get it! Eat your soup Steve!” Bucky darted to the door and threw it open with a flourish, only to be faced with a sweaty-looking delivery man, and not the cheerful chocolate-covered-fruit angel he had been dreaming of. 

 

“Wheredoyawanem?” This dude was all muffled business and no bananas, gesturing to the stacks of boxes behind him. 

 

“Uhhh…” Bucky didn’t know what ‘em’ were, but he stood aside anyways and gestured to the entryway. 

 

The delivery guy sighed and started wheeling in a trolley of boxes, curses and whispers of “goddamn kids, too much money and nothing to spend it on,” being thrown out under his breath. 

 

Bucky would have been slightly insulted, but he didn’t know what the fuck was actually happening, so he really couldn’t get into the feeling. There were five very large boxes sitting in their entryway by the end of it, and Bucky signed the electronic scrawl thingy poorly before thanking the man and closing the door behind him. 

 

“What the hell?” Steve had seen the delivery and had emerged from the healing nest, moving a little slowly as not to jolt his arm or ribs. 

 

“I have no idea.” Bucky pulled his keys out of his pocket and sliced across the tape sealing the closest box shut, opening the flaps to reveal… more boxes. Shoe boxes. 

 

Keds boxes. 

 

“What?” Bucky pulled a box out and opened it, revealing a brand new pair of Keds. 

 

Panda Keds. Bucky’s panda Keds. 

 

Bucky reached for the next shoe box. 

 

More panda Keds. 

 

And the next. 

 

Panda Keds. 

 

“Oh no.” Steve was doing a literal facepalm now, as Bucky was quickly slicing into the other remaining boxes. More shoe boxes. More panda Keds. 

 

Bucky sat on the floor surrounded by the delivery, five large boxes containing twenty brand-new pairs each. Bucky was now the proud owner of one hundred pairs of panda shoes. 

 

“Steve. What have you done?” 

 

Steve didn’t exactly answer the question, but his reply was answer enough. 

 

“Tony really should've taken my phone away sooner.”

 

Steve ate the rest of his soup without complaint that night. 

 

Fucking Steve. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I had a pair of panda Keds once and I feel like Bucky would have appreciated them.


End file.
